


Brother's Keeper

by Laylah



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Demon Magic, M/M, Punishment Sex, Sibling Incest, Spitroasting, Tentacles, monster cock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 01:58:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10709769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: Damon has been hunting demons for years, ever since he got out on his own. It's a way of handling his own family history. But when he takes out the wrong demon nest, his half-brother Ash shows up to tell him that he's out of his league and he needs to stop. And Ash isn't going to take no for an answer.





	Brother's Keeper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Megan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megan/gifts).



The crack of Damon's pistol echoes through the half-empty loft, adding the sharp reek of gunpowder to the stink of old blood and rot. His target howls, hisses, thrashing and fumbling away from him into the dark. His head swims but he makes himself follow it. This is the last of them, the one remaining demon in this nest, and he's not going to give up with the job half done. 

He can feel the demon's presence in the darkened hallway up ahead. He's close. And once he puts the last one down, that should neutralize whatever defensive spell this was, leaving him woozy and feverish and aware of his body in all the wrong ways.

The demon hisses at him when he corners it; it's given up on its human form in favor of what Damon assumes is its real one, all black scales and sharp angles, a convincing if not creative nightmare. It gathers its strength, springs—

Getting shot in the gut at point-blank range nearly blows it clean in half.

The corpse hits the floor, oozing ichor onto industrial-chic concrete. Damon takes a step back, then another, until he can put his back to the wall and lean against it while he waits for the dizziness to go away. That was all four of them. One more little victory in the endless futile war to make demons _go the fuck away_ and quit ruining human lives.

Okay. Taking deep breaths and waiting it out doesn't seem to be making him feel better. Maybe the spell is keyed to the area, and the building's going to need an exorcism. Or to be burned down. The point is, Damon should be getting out of here. He pushes off the wall and lurches back down the hallway, toward the front door.

The door opens just before he reaches it. Damon fumbles for his gun, alarm jangling in the back of his mind despite the syrupy warmth smothering most of his thoughts. He's raising it unsteadily when a very familiar figure steps through the door.

"Really? You'd pull a gun on your own brother?"

"....Ash?" Damon blinks, letting his arm fall to his side, trying to clear his head. "What are you doing here?" He hasn't seen Ash in years, not since...

"Do you remember what I said the last time we saw each other?" Ash leans against the doorframe, comfortably at ease. He's wearing a dark tailored suit that looks completely out of place in the tawdriness of the demons' nest; Damon can't decide if he looks more like a model or more like a gangster. He's always been like that, unreasonably pretty in ways that feel just a little out of step with his surroundings.

Wait, no, there was a question and Damon was probably supposed to answer it. "I remember. You wanted me to stop hunting."

Ash's mouth quirks; it's not quite a smile. It looks damnably—hah—elegant, like just about everything he does. "I gave you a warning," he says. His voice is so calm, so smooth. "If you kept doing this, eventually you'd land yourself in actual trouble."

"Right," Damon agrees. He wants to just stand there and let Ash's voice wash over him. "I—fuck. That's. That's what's going on, isn't it?" Focus is so hard, but he makes himself finish the thought. "Those little fuckers belonged to somebody important, and. And you're here to get me out."

"Half right," Ash says. "Those 'little fuckers' belonged to me."

That can't be right. "No," Damon says, squinting at him in confusion. "You wouldn't.... These creeps, they were—"

Ash _puts his fingers in Damon's mouth_ to shut him up, and the overheated woozy feeling gets worse. "They were doing the same kind of thing that Mom did to your dad?" he says pleasantly. His eyes are brightening from brown to bright snake yellow and he shouldn't be smiling and it shouldn't look this good. "Little brother, it shouldn't come as a surprise that I work for the family business."

Horror burns cold in every synapse Damon can still call his own. He tries to lift his gun through the haze slowing his thoughts. His hand is shaking. Ash is his _brother_. Ash is a demon. He has to do this. He has to.

Ash bats the gun out of his hand without even looking down. "You've never really known how much you were out of your depth," he says. "Not when you were picking fights in the old neighborhood, not when you were trying to outsmart the foster system, and definitely not when you decided to start hunting demons." He takes his fingers out of Damon's mouth and wraps them around his throat instead. "You're my brother and I'm fond of you, so I'm not going to kill you like you deserve. But somebody really has to show you how much you're playing with fire when you do these silly things."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Damon croaks. His hands are on Ash's arm but he feels clumsy and too slow to put up a real fight.

Ash leans in close, pressing Damon up against the wall. "It means you're fucked," he purrs. He seals his lips over Damon's and the world lurches around them, twisting and melting into chaos. This is wrong and fucked up on every level Damon can think of and his body won't fight it, trembling and fucking _turned on_ as Ash drags him right out of reality.

By the time Ash lets him out of the kiss, the air smells like sex and smoke, warm and humid in Damon's lungs, and the room they're in looks like a high-class bordello in hell, half pink satin sheets and half light fixtures made from spinal columns. "Jesus fuck," Damon says. "Where are we?"

"I brought you home for a little chat," Ash says. "You have a terrible knack for focusing on the wrong parts of a situation."

Damon scrapes together enough willpower to glare. "Yeah? What _should_ I be focusing on?"

"How you want to get wrecked," Ash says. He's smiling again and there's nothing pleasant about it. "Tell me you want me to fuck you, little brother." He cups his hand over the front of Damon's jeans as he speaks, and Damon's embarrassingly already hard. When he squeezes, Damon's knees almost give out.

Damon's almost afraid of what's going to happen when he opens his mouth, but he grits out "No," just like his body belongs to him and is doing what he tells it to. "You've made your point, you're a badass, now let me go."

"Well," Ash says. "That's not the answer that'll make life easier for you. ...But I confess it's the one I was hoping for." He lets go, stepping back, and Damon tries to ignore the desperate ache of wanting to be touched again in favor of bracing to defend himself. He's not sure he can _walk_ , given how dizzy and uncoordinated he feels right now, and his gun is back in the real world, but hell if he's just going to roll over for whatever sick demonic bullshit Ash has in mind.

Ash snaps his fingers and the wall on the other side of the room opens, unfurling in a hideously organic motion. He calls out something completely unintelligible, harsh and hissing in a way that makes Damon's hackles prickle with instinctive revulsion. This feels like a nightmare, complete with the inappropriate hard-on.

The thing that slinks through the unnatural doorway looks enough like the last demon he killed that it could be that one's brother. Ha ha, unfortunate choice of phrasing there. It's oily black all over, scaled, and has entirely too many sharp angles.

The second one looks just like the first. The third one is something else, but Damon can't say _what_ exactly because looking at it makes his vision blur and his stomach churn. He looks from the demons to Ash. This is bad. He wouldn't want to fight this many head on if he were in his right mind and well armed.

"Choices have consequences," Ash says. "This is where yours have landed you." He grins, feral and delighted, and Damon would swear his canines are turning into actual fangs. "About to get the fuck of your life."

"I don't want that," Damon says, despite the way just hearing the words makes his cock ache. "Not like this. Ash, please—"

The scaly ones reach him, grabbing him by the arms and pulling him away from the wall. Their hands are warm through the fabric of his hoodie. His mouth goes dry at how good it feels to be touched.

They tear through his clothes with their claws, stripping him bare with horrifying ease as he tries and fails to convince his body to resist. Fuck. Given how easily they go through denim, the only thing keeping them from tearing his flesh to ribbons is that they don't want to. And _that_ shouldn't be making him _harder_.

One of them says something to the other, teasing and sibilant, and drags a claw along the line of Damon's jaw. His mouth falls open and his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. The other one laughs.

"I give up, Ash," Damon says helplessly. "I can't fight this. You win. Okay?"

"Okay," Ash says pleasantly.

The two demons drag Damon across the room and pull him down over a padded bench, his ass in the air. " _Ash_ ," he pleads.

Something chilly and wet drags up the back of his thigh. He shudders, squirming away from the cold, and wet muscular tentacles wrap around both of his legs, pulling them apart. It feels good. It shouldn't feel good. It's the farthest thing from good. He looks back over his shoulder and gets the terrible vertigo feeling again, so bad he has to look down almost instantly. The thing back there is so inhuman he can't stand the sight of it, and Ash's magic has screwed him up so bad his nervous system thinks its touch is pleasurable.

The scaly pair push Damon's arms behind his back, where more tentacles loop around his wrists and hold them tight. He chokes out a noise that was supposed to be protest, it really was, but somehow it comes out as a moan.

The next part is no surprise but it's no less distressing for being an obvious move: a slick tentacle trails up between the cheeks of his ass and pushes, slipping past his body's token resistance and stretching his asshole open.

"No," Damon says, and that comes out like a moan too. His skin is so sensitive and hot, and the slide of cool alien flesh against his feels so good. "Don't, god, I don't want—nnh..."

Somewhere off to the side, Ash says something in the hissing demon language. One of the scaly twins answers, stepping in front of Damon. 

Its crotch is right at the level of his face, so he gets an up-close-and-personal view as a slit in its scales dilates, exposing bright red flesh as its cock unsheaths and swells to its full size. Damon can smell salt and sharp spicy musk. He's drooling. He can't make himself resist.

The demon rubs its cock against his cheek and Damon finds himself panting, his mouth open, as if this is someplace he wants to be. "Ash, make it stop," he pleads, as if that's going to do any good, and then the demon presses its cock against his lips and he whines.

When it pushes, his mouth opens entirely against his will. It feels good, the hot smooth weight of the demon's cock against his tongue, and it tastes good, heady and inhuman, and _he doesn't want this_ and it's so hard to hold onto that thought. Its claws graze his scalp as it cards its fingers through his hair, and he shudders all over at the way that feels. His cock jumps when the demon takes a firm grip on his hair so it can hold him still and thrust into his mouth. The ridges on the underside of its cock drag against his lip as it moves, and that feels agonizingly sensual.

The tentacles restraining him thrum and pulse, echoes of the way the one in his ass is moving. It feels like it's swelling inside him, thickening in a way nothing human would be able to do. Because of Ash's magic it's amazing instead of horrific.

For a few minutes he can't really process anything but the slick slide of getting fucked, of having demons stuff him full from both ends. It's hypnotic, making him weightless and needy and—no. No, he can't lose himself to this. He's more than this.

Ash is kneeling beside him, just inside his field of vision. "You're helpless, little brother. I need you to understand that." He lays a hand over the nape of Damon's neck and squeezes gently. "You can't fight me and you shouldn't try to fight mine. Do you understand?"

Damon squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to think about anything that's happening right now. His cock hangs hard and swollen between his legs, throbbing when the demon fucking his mouth pushes deep enough to hit the back of his throat. He chokes and the sound turns into a moan. 

Ash gives the demons another hissed instruction. A tentacle slides between Damon's legs, slithering over his balls and wrapping around his cock. It squeezes tight, like a snake constricting its prey, and Damon's body surrenders, a hard sudden climax making him shake in the monster's grip.

"Very nice," Ash says. "We should keep track of how many times we can make you do that, hmm?"

"Nnh," Damon protests. Already it feels almost like the orgasm didn't even happen. He's still so worked up, so needy. His skin craves touch. The strange salt of demon precome smearing his tongue is a delicious temptation. He catches himself tonguing the head whenever it pulls back far enough to let him.

The demon's hips hitch up needily, making him choke, and he's horrified by the hungry anticipation he feels. A few more strokes and then it pulses, flooding his mouth with thick, bitter fluid, and he's gulping it down as if it's a fucking _blessing_.

When it pulls out he realizes there's spit running down his chin and his mouth is still open as he leans after it. He pulls back as best he can.

"Tell me you want me to fuck you," Ash purrs.

Damon shakes his head weakly. He tries to summon the strength to argue but another tentacle pushes its way into his ass and he groans in helpless, horrified pleasure at the stretch. His legs are trembling so hard he doesn't think he could hold himself up if the demons let him go.

"I see," Ash says. "Still thirsty." He beckons, and the other one of the scaly demons steps up to feed Damon its cock. Damon leans _toward_ it, taking it as deep as he can, closing his eyes as if that could save him from knowing what he's doing here.

The writhing tentacles in his ass have found just the right angle to put pressure on his prostate, and that's desperately uncomfortable in a way that makes him want to squirm toward it. He chokes himself on the cock down his throat and tears spring to his eyes at the same time that he jerks with another sharp, unsatisfying orgasm. His cock aches. His jaw aches. His asshole feels so stretched and stuffed full. It shouldn't be so _good_.

"Of course, it's always possible I'm underestimating you," Ash says, as if the idea has just occurred to him. "I mean, you are family. Maybe it'll take more to convince you than it would a human." He reaches under Damon's splayed-out body and strokes the tip of his cock just once, then brings his fingertips to his lips to lick them. "Should I take you down to the kennels, little brother? Let the hellhounds mount you, one after another? You think you're full now, imagine how you'd feel taking a hellhound's knot. Imagine how you'd feel after taking a dozen of them. I'm picturing how you'd look, your asshole red and raw, gaping wide. Come dripping down your thighs. Your cock just as hard as it is now."

Damon whines, wishing he could argue and grateful he can't, because he _is_ hard again, still, and everything Ash says makes his cock throb with need. He couldn't stop it from happening if Ash decided to go through with the threat. He wouldn't even be making a credible effort. He'd probably be moaning and panting as much as he is now, and if Ash didn't gag him with something who knows how much worse he'd embarrass himself with what he begged for.

"That's compelling, isn't it?" Ash's voice is low and hungry, as if finally this is something _he's_ excited about too. That's terrifying. "Or maybe I should have you bred by one of the—" the word he says then is unparsable, a series of terrible alien chittering sounds. "Get you implanted with a brood of eggs and give you a whole new reason to hunt demons—you'll need demon come to feed them as they grow, so they don't devour your life force. Wouldn't that be an entertaining way to send you home? Desperate to track us down for more of this?"

Damon makes a noise he hopes is a coherent protest. He's achingly hard, and if he comes again while Ash is making threats like this, that would look entirely too much like he _liked_ this idea.

"No?" Ash runs one finger along his jaw, light and teasing. "We shouldn't toss you out when you're in such a delicate state? I should keep you here, where it'll be easy for you to get all the come you're craving?"

He tries his best to hold back but the climax shivers through him anyway, need and horror and all his nerves lit up with signals he can't disentangle. Ash _laughs_ , wicked awful delight, like he knows exactly why Damon didn't want that to happen.

And of course that isn't the end, not with the nameless demon still fucking his mouth and the impossible _thing_ reaming his ass and the magic Ash cast on him still raging in his blood. His face is wet and he's not sure when he started to cry. His limbs are weak and rubbery, his lips swollen, his cock and balls and asshole a throbbing hot blur of need.

The cock down his throat starts to pulse, and Damon braces himself to swallow another load of demon come—but this one pulls out, snarling a clawed hand in his hair to hold him still as it shoots its load all over his face. Some of it lands on his lips and Damon licks them instinctively, chasing traces of the strange salt heat before he can bring himself to stop. With his arms still held behind him, he can't wipe it off, has to just stay where he is, panting and used and dripping with demon seed.

"So handsome," Ash says. "You look lovely right now."

"What do you want?" Damon asks, his voice raw and hoarse.

"I want to fuck you, little brother," Ash says without missing a beat, as if that was the obvious answer, as if Damon should have already known. "What do _you_ want?"

How much worse is this going to get if he keeps resisting? How long before Ash moves from suggesting monstrous things to actually doing them? "I want," Damon says, and has to take a few steadying breaths before he can make himself say the words. "I want you to fuck me."

Ash leans in as if he's going for a kiss, and then instead he licks Damon's face, lapping up the streaks of come across his skin. "I knew we could reach an understanding eventually."

He steps back and straightens up, and his skin starts to darken and swell and _change_ , and—for a second it's almost too gruesome to watch, but when his form settles again he's a demon like something out of a nightmare: easily eight feet tall, covered in glistening dark scales and ridges, leathery wings held bated behind him. His cock juts out from between his powerful thighs, obscenely thick and hard, glistening wet at the tip.

"Now tell me again," he says.

Damon stares. His throat feels like it's locked up, like he can't move, like there's no way he can go through with this. Was he just telling himself how much worse resistance would be? Was he convincing himself this would be the easy way out? Was he _right_ , despite how bad this looks? "I..."

Ash wraps a clawed hand around the fat length of his cock and strokes it slowly. "Yes?"

"I want you to fuck me," Damon whispers.

"My precious little brother." Ash's smile is all fangs like this, glinting and terrible, jagged sets of needles like he's one of those pythons that lives in trees and snatches birds right out of the air. He gives an order to the thing that's been holding Damon down and it shifts, slithering liquid and powerful behind him. The tentacles slip free of his ass and Damon groans, the empty feeling almost unbearable.

The monster pulls him back and lifts him up, supporting him on a writhing bed of its limbs, pulling his legs apart and offering him up—on his back now, where he can see Ash swaggering closer. There's no way Ash can fit that whole thing in him, and damn the demon magic that makes Damon want him to try.

When Ash rubs the head of it against the crack of Damon's ass, Damon squirms helplessly toward him. "Ash, I can't—I can't take something that big," he says. "I'm not trying to fight you, I'm really not, I just—"

"What do you think I am?" Ash asks. "What do you think _you_ are?" His hands curl around Damon's hips, claws pricking at his skin to hold him still. "Listen to your body. And breathe."

He pushes.

It's so big, so much, stretching Damon out impossibly far. He'd thought having the tentacles in him was a lot but this—he's gasping, and in between gasps he's _moaning_ , his nerves lit up with need. Ash keeps pushing, keeps filling him up further, a growing heavy pressure between his hips. It feels like his insides are just being shoved out of the way, like he's being remade to do nothing but take this monstrous cock. His own lies untouched, stiff and drooling against his belly, and it feels like any touch at all would make him come again.

When Ash finally bottoms out, hips flush against Damon's ass, he says, "Open your eyes, sweetness."

Damon doesn't remember closing them, but he does what he's told. He looks down. His stomach is distended with it, stretched out taut by the sheer size of Ash's cock buried in him. "I can't—that's not—"

"You can. You are." Ash's claws stroke his hip fondly. "How does it feel?"

"It...." Damon bites down on the admission, still staring, unable to make himself look away. The hair on his nape is standing up and his nerves jangle with the need to escape and he wants to _come_ , fuck. Ash pulls back just a little bit and shoves back in, and feeling it—watching it—makes Damon moan.

"Well, this'll be honest with me even if you won't," Ash says. He drags his claws lightly up Damon's cock as he thrusts again and Damon does come, helplessly, feeling like it's being pushed up and out of him by the invading force of Ash's cock. "Oh, that _is_ nice."

Damon makes a desperate sound that comes out half moan and half sob. With each thrust Ash fucks him a little harder than the one before, unbearable pressure, the ridges on the shaft scraping over every nerve Damon has. It should be horrifying. It _is_ horrifying, being held down by one monster and fucked mercilessly by another one, being stuffed so full it feels like he can barely breathe. But his body keeps telling him it's good, too, pleasure rolling through him in waves every time Ash drives in deep enough that Damon can see it move.

"You want me to come?" Ash murmurs, sweet and low as if they were lovers.

"Yes," Damon says desperately, because he knows that's the only acceptable answer. "Please, yes."

Ash hums contentedly. "You're going to come when I do," he says.

"Is that—an order?"

"It's a promise." Ash drives in harder, faster, completely merciless now, and Damon feels like he's being just hollowed out, shaken apart, reduced to nothing but a hole for Ash to use. He's gasping for breath and trembling all over, almost grateful for the monster that's holding him in place because he's too wrecked to hold himself up now.

"Please," Damon gasps out. "Please come."

"In you," Ash prompts. 

Damon nods. "Please come in me," he says obediently. "Please fill me with it."

Ash makes another low inhuman noise of pleasure. He keeps thrusting, every moment agonizing with unfilled need—and then his cock throbs, buried deep, and Damon can feel the flood of heat, the aching pressure where he's already stretched so taut—and that shouldn't make him come again but it does, harder than any of the times he has already, hard enough that it hurts.

For a minute they don't move, just waiting that out. Damon's heart is pounding. His ass aches, though probably a lot less than it should. He tries to catch his breath.

Ash pulls out at last, telling the tentacle monster something as he does so. It sets Damon down on the floor as Ash steps back, and Damon winces as the shift in position makes Ash's come start to drip out of him and down his thighs. He debates trying to get up off his knees but isn't sure he could actually stand right now, or what good it would do if he could.

Ash transforms back into his human shape—complete with pristine suit, the bastard—and crouches in front of Damon. "I think I'm starting to get through to you," he says. He sounds happy with himself.

" _Starting_?" Damon echoes. 

"You'd be amazed how often people almost learn a valuable lesson and then decide not to at the last minute. I've found it's best to be _very_ thorough."

"Ash, please..."

"So I'm going to keep you around for a few more days and let you get a real sense of what you'd be in for if I had to make this permanent." He smiles, like Damon is a particularly exciting bug to pull the legs off of. "Here's the fun part: I'm giving you a choice."

Damon shakes his head. It's not going to be anything good. 

"No, little brother, hear me out. Three more days of seeing to my friends' needs. If you want, you can stay under the effects of the charm that's bound you right now. You'll love how it feels, all of it, but afterward you'll know you chose to be turned into a mindless fuckdoll for demons." He cards his fingers through Damon's hair, slow and soothing, almost a petting motion. Almost like real affection. Nothing like real affection. " _Or_ you can go without, and get by on your natural physical and emotional limits. You suffer, probably, but your pride stays intact—except that anything you do enjoy then is your own damn fault."

"I don't..." Damon fumbles for words, tries to hold himself together around the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "You can't ask me to..."

"Just pick what feels right! No stalling for time. Every minute you keep me waiting is another day you get to enjoy our hospitality."

Fuck. There's no good answer, and no way to not answer.... He focuses on the only bright spot in the whole damn situation. "And after that... You let me go?"

"I promise," Ash says. So _pleased_.

It's a terrible choice. It's a deal with a devil. Damon takes a few slow shaky breaths, scrapes together the remains of his dignity, and answers the only way he can.


End file.
